


Unpredictable

by Emeli_Thorne



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Frank and Maria are divorced, Journalist/Mechanic AU, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, as per usual romance will ensue, in future chapters there will be mentions and descriptions of violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 19:29:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15803079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emeli_Thorne/pseuds/Emeli_Thorne
Summary: When heavy rain and a mild car accident leave her stranded on the doorstep of a mechanic's shop, Karen has to rely on the goodness of a stranger to offer her a shelter.As hours go by and their interaction deepens, Karen comes up with a brand new idea for her next piece.Journalist/Mechanic AU





	Unpredictable

**Author's Note:**

> I have to many WIPs, I know. This has been in the works since... February? I have a few chapters planned, but so far only the first chapter is written (this one). I hope you'll enjoy and leave me some feedback bcs I'm so darn excited about this story!!!

Her phone rings with an incoming message just as Karen turns left at an intersection, the wipers on her beat-up car working vigorously against the downpour. She struggles to keep her eyes on the road although she can scarcely see anything at this point, and fumbles around her bag in search of her phone. Thankfully, there’s red light on the next junction and she stops, taking the phone out of the bag and checking to see who texted her.

 _Are you close?_  the message reads, and Karen lets out a frustrated grunt because she doesn’t know what to answer.

Looking around, she notices mechanic’s shop that she is sure she passed by already. It appears that for the last five minutes she’s been driving in a circle, and that the diner she’s supposed to meet at with her source is nowhere in sight.

Karen can already imagine how anxious her source has become, risking their life just by agreeing to meet with her. And now, just because the heavens chose to open up today she’s leaving them out in the open. If they decided they no longer wanted to help her, she wouldn’t blame them one bit.

There is not a soul to see on the street, which is understandable considering the weather and the harsh wind, but this whole atmosphere adds to her growing feel of uneasiness and dread.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Why in the world did she agree to meet with them today of all days? It wasn’t like she didn’t have anything better to do. She could have worked on this corruption piece from the apartment and arrange the meet-up at a later date.

It’s finally turned green but Karen has no idea where to go next. Cars behind her start to honk, adding to her annoyance that if she could she’d get out and give them a piece of mind. Thinking better of it - none of this is their fault anyway - she shoves her phone back into her bag and tosses it back on the passenger seat.

Deciding to turn right and stop by that mechanic’s shop in hopes of asking for directions, she almost hits a fire hydrant when her car skids on the wet road, and had it not been for the safety belt, Karen’s sure she would have been propelled through the windshield from the sheer force of her breaking.

A few seconds later she realises she’s been screaming, her throat hurting. When she tries to jump-start the car, it coughs out then stills. By the third attempt, Karen realises her car gave out completely, for whatever reason. Maybe it's just to spite her and add insult to injury, both literal and figurative one.

Breathing in and out several times in an effort to calm herself, she’s on the cusp of crying because everything seems to have gone terribly for her today when she has so much to do. As if she needed anything else to go wrong, it dawns on her, through her shaken and clouded mind, that there is no heating.

“Fucking great! Just what I needed on this godforsaken day!”

Heart hammering in her chest from the scare, headache beginning to pulsate behind her eyes, her chest aching from the impact and seat belt digging into her skin, and her hands still shaking, Karen decides to leave the car where it is. She shoots a quick message to her source saying there is no way she can make it today, asking – no, _begging_ \- them to please reschedule their meeting. Grabbing her bag and an umbrella, she exits the car and runs towards the metal door of the shop, her fist pounding against it, the sound still loud in spite of the torrential downpour.

“Hey, is there anyone there?”

Her small umbrella offers her no shelter against the heavy rainfall as water drips from it down her neck and back.  As she stands there, in her thin coat that does nothing to protect her from the whipping wind, she starts praying that someone lets her in because her feet, clad in simple kitten heels, are already soaking wet, as are her pantyhose. She's trembling, her hands already freezing though she hasn't been standing there for more than two minutes.

Fortunately, it seems someone is there because she hears the metal clanking and not long after the doors are sliding up to reveal a man dressed in dirty navy coveralls and a black unzipped hoodie over it, sporting a look of suspicion on his grease-stained face as he looks her up and down.

“Hey, can I please come in? It’s freezing cold,” the words tremble as they come out of her mouth, lips quivering. She then grins in spite of her chattering teeth, hoping her smile will convince this man to let her in. Although she’s sure the grin is more a grimace that is more likely to convince the man she’s some nut job.

The brooding mechanic is silent for a second that Karen is sure he’ll just leave her to her own devices. Luckily for her, he doesn't. Letting out a grunt, he motions for her to come inside and Karen wastes no time, rushing past him to get away from the rain and cold as he pulls the metal door down again.

“There’s a heater by the table. You can sit there,” the man says before she can turn around to get a better look at him. Trudging tiredly towards the table, her wet shoes making a squishy sound against the concrete, she takes off her wet coat and hangs it around the chair to dry, then drops in the chair with a groan, her bag settle neatly in her lap so she can feel the outline of her gun.

_Safety first._

"Thank you so much for letting me in," she says just as the mechanic appears before her offering her a mug of steaming coffee. If it weren't completely inappropriate, she'd have hugged the soul out of him. Instead, she thanks him with a small smile, greedily wrapping her fingers around the mug to warm her hands. When she looks up, the man's eyes are fixed on her, bearing a strange look, though the corners of his lips are quirked up and the small gesture makes him less scary than before.

"No problem. Couldn't just leave you there to freeze to death," his voice is gravely as he sits on the chair across from her, stretches his legs in front of him and takes a sip from his mug that bears a skull on the front. "What were you doin' out in this weather anyway?"

Karen takes a few sips from the mug and almost lets out a moan when the hot liquid comes down her throat. Pushing a strand of her damp hair behind her ear, she clears her throat before answering with a shaky voice, "I was on my way to a meeting. It was barely raining when I hit the road. I wasn't expecting the weather to take a turn for the worse so suddenly."

The man is looking at her with a perplexed expression and Karen can't help but feel self-conscious. She's startled when he gets up, leaves his mug on the table and disappears behind a blue door behind them. Fear starts settling in her stomach but before she can process it and dig for her gun, he reappears, carrying a pile of what she manages to discern as a towel, a grey zip-up hoodie with matching sweatpants, and a pair of socks and slippers on top of it. 

"I, uh. I thought you might like to take off the uh, your, uh," he starts mumbling, face growing redder by the second that Karen has to bite her lip to suppress a laugh as she watches this giant motion bashfully to her leg area.

"My pantyhose?" she volunteers and he nods and smiles shyly, handing her the items, mindful not to touch her, Karen notices with curiosity. "Oh, thank you! My feet are freezing."

He's still polite when he says they’re all clean, “I just brought them in today” and shows her to an office with closed blinds where she can change then leaves, making sure to close the door behind him as Karen sets her bag on the only desk in the room.

Taking the wet pantyhose off her as well as her blouse and skirt, Karen takes the towel and starts drying herself, the movements seemingly initiating the blood circulation and giving her the first semblance of warmth. 

All the while, her mind wanders to the man behind the door who was kind enough to let her in, give her warm coffee and dry clothes. He seems sort of timid in a cute way, and this is definitely not the line of thought her mind should be treading right now.

Instead, Karen inspects her chest and as she has predicted, there's an angry red mark between her breasts from the seat belt that burns a little, but she'll live.

After she puts on the long thermo socks he had given her which reach to mid-calf, zips up the hoodie and pulls up the sweatpants, both ending up being a few sizes too big though extremely soft and plushy, and ties her hair up, she walks back to the table carrying her things.

The man (she really ought to ask him his name already) has meanwhile dragged the heater closer to the chair she was sitting on earlier, no doubt to make her more comfortable and has opened up her umbrella so it can dry too.

"You can put your things on that chair behind ya. It'll dry faster," he tells her, and she does so, leaving her shoes next to the heater then puts the chair closer to the heater as well.

Karen takes a seat, stretching her legs and reaching for her coffee. "I'm Karen, by the way. Thanks again for everything. This turned out to be a horrible day and if you hadn't opened... I don't know what I would've done. First this weather, then my car."

"Frank," he nods. "Again, no problem. Sorry ‘bout your day. That out there, that your car?" he asks and when she nods, continues, "What happened to it?"

Karen tells him about the almost accident she had, explaining how the car just wouldn't start afterwards. She feels like a complete fool but Frank surprises her yet again by inquiring if she was okay rather than asking about the car. When she assures him she is fine, he appears to be relieved.

"You can stay here for as long as you need. I'll take a look at your car later, if you want," he offers, and Karen finds herself yet again stunned by his generosity. Unable to say anything else, she thanks him for the tenth time but Frank just shrugs it off.

When Frank turns his gaze back to his coffee, Karen decides to actually look around the place she’s at, noticing for the first time the two cars to her left, one of them with its hood open. There are grease stains all over the concrete floor and some of the tools are scattered on the floor next to the other car. Other than that, everything seems pretty neat and meticulously organised. A few car magazines are stacked on a chair in front of the office she exited a few minutes ago and two skateboards leaned on a wall next to it.

"So, you work alone?" Karen tries to start a conversation in an effort to dissolve the silence in the shop and counter the wild thundering of the rain outside. Also, she's curious about him. Frank has been too quiet and for someone in her line of work, it usually indicates she has to dig deeper. In addition, no other person has appeared since she's been here which is odd.

Frank leans his elbows on the table, twirling the steaming mug in his hand. "Nah. I work with my friends, David and Curt. David had a family emergency and Curt has a day off. Just me today."

Nodding, Karen drinks what's left of her lukewarm coffee and before she can even put the mug on the table, Frank is pushing a fresh pot of coffee towards her. Karen smiles in acknowledgment and Frank, per usual now, just grunts something akin to  _no problem_.

"Is it usually this quiet here? It's kind of a big shop and it's only the three of you, that's strange." 

"We don't take in many customers. Don't like to keep people waitin'. 'sides, I’m not a big fan of noise so the fewer people around, the better."

Furrowing her brows, Karen regards him for a few moments as Frank tries but fails to keep the eye contact. Instead, he busies himself staring at the mug in front of him which he has refilled, his foot nervously tapping against the concrete. He must be uncomfortable, she concludes, but can't decides if it is her presence, her attempt at engaging him in a conversation or both that's got him so anxious.

Frank exhales quite loudly that Karen starts feeling self-conscious and a bit embarrassed for putting him on spot like that. He's already done enough for her anyway, there's no need for her to keep invading his space. She decides to stop talking and instead rummages through her bag. Finding her phone, she checks the messages - her source answered they can reschedule - and any calls she might have missed - none - and is about to tap on one of the game apps when Frank's gruff voice reaches her ears.

"So, uh, what do you do, ma'am, if you don't mind my askin’?”

When Karen looks up, Frank has the softest expression on his face, his eyes sternly set on her and she’s frozen for a moment, just looking back at him. It is then she notices his eyes are the deepest shade of brown, almost black, and his lips appear to be trying to form a friendly smile.

Crossing her legs, Karen locks her phone and leaves it on the table. “I’m a reporter at  _The Bulletin_. I mostly write about crime, corruption, that sort of thing.”

“Whoa, you got balls, lady,” Frank’s voice is full of admiration which calms Karen’s nerves even more. “You ever get scared?”

Contemplating for a few moments, recollecting all the stories she worked on, the troubles she got herself in, she exhales tiredly and finally replies,

“Sometimes. But I think you have to have that sense of fear. It makes you... more cautious, more aware of the world around you. Fear for me is a driving force – when I’m scared, but do something anyway, it gives me a sense of accomplishment and pride. Means I conquered that one part of me that was supposed to break me and stop me from doing what I wanted in the first place.”

Frank’s gaze, which was set on her while she talked, falls down to his hands hugging the mug, one finger tapping against the porcelain. Karen observes him, the way his brows keep creasing, the way his lips twitch as if battling the words inside his mouth, the rapid blinking of his eyelids that keep trying to fight back some painful memory.

His voice is shaky when he starts talking, though still not looking at her, only nodding in acknowledgment of her words. “I-I never thought of it that way. I guess you’re right.” A pause during which he takes a few languid breathes, tilts his head then begins his story.

“I used to be in the Marines. I went to war and... saw my friends die, saw our enemies die, innocent civilians die. So many lives lost. But I kept goin’, kept comin’ back to it. Sometimes I feel like... like I craved it, y’know? The violence, gunfire, shouting orders? Whenever we had a mission, I always wanted to go in first. Thought if I go first, I can put down enough of those bastards so others could easily take care of the rest of ‘em.

Guess what I’m trying to say is... I was scared, all the time. I had a wife and kids to think about, had to come back to ‘em. I guess fear was my driving force too. Don’t know if I felt proud though.”

“That’s why you don’t like noise and having too many people around,” Karen deduces when he’s finished, regarding him curiously. The way he told her his story, what he confessed... It makes her feel anxious and excited at the same time as an idea starts forming in her mind.

Frank finally lifts his head then, eyes wet with tears that it pulls something inside Karen. He looks... vulnerable, shouldering this invisible burden of his past. Almost on reflex, Karen reaches for his hand only to stop herself at the last moment. She’s not sure how Frank would understand it, how he would react.

Frank wipes the corner of his eye with his thumb then clears his throat, blinking a few times to chase away the tears. When he answers her earlier statement, his voice is much deeper and sadder than it was before as he acknowledges what Karen said.

“Yeah, Yeah, I guess after years of noise, silence is more than welcome sometimes.”

“I get it, Frank,” Karen tells him, leaning over the table. “But even silence can be our enemy. Sometimes when I’m alone and there’s nothing but silence around me, I want to crawl out of my skin.”

Her own words shock her, breath catching in her throat as she says it. Never before has she dared to admit this to herself, let alone another person. Yet here she is, sitting across from Frank, a kind mechanic who offered her – a stranger – a shelter and warmth when she needed it.    

*        *        *        *       *

That afternoon, as the rain outside poured with all its might, Karen and Frank shared a few more hours of intermittent silence and candid conversation, during which Karen confessed to Frank more than she had ever confessed to the pastor back in her hometown, her friends and family, or any of her ex boyfriends.

Frank’s socks and hoodie kept her warm and cosy, his eyes held her captive with sheer force of goodness and guilt she found behind them, and his voice made every cell in her body vibrated with an indefinable energy.

*        *         *        *        * 

When the rain finally stops and Frank manages to fix her car, the feeling of regret fills Karen. Regret for leaving him knowing now how broken this man is on the inside, regret for not meeting him sooner since this one afternoon with him did more to open her eyes than all the sermons at church.

When she goes back into Frank’s office to change into her dry clothes, it is with great lament that she takes off his hoodie, feeling like she is abandoning the sense of safety and peace it provided.

“Thank you for letting me in, for coffee, dry clothes, for fixing my car... And for the talk. You’re one of a kind man, Frank. I’m glad we met,” she tells him with utter honesty when she settles inside her car and puts on the seat belt.

Frank is silent and brooding as usual, but when a smile escapes him and he graces her with such tenderness and brightness in his dark eyes, Karen’s stomach flips in excitement.

Scratching the back of his head, Frank bids her goodbye, offering his services as a mechanic for whenever she needs them.

As she starts the car and heads home, she can’t help her gaze wandering to the side mirror and Frank’s broad figure that’s getting smaller with each turn of her wheels.

*        *       *       *       *

When she finally gets home, it’s dark, and the silence of her apartment is unwelcoming. She yearns to hear Frank’s soothing voice echoing his workshop and watch as his eyes reveal more than his words ever could.

It's strange, how quickly she got used to his condensed, strained way of speaking that's full of remorse. Or maybe she's just too lost in her head and needs to let today go.

After she showers and crawls tiredly under the covers, thoughts of Frank are still plaguing her overworked mind.

After tossing and turning for hours, unable to let go of him, Karen grabs her phone off the charger and, hastily types a message to Ellison, hoping he won’t kill her for texting him so late.

_I’ve got an idea for my next story._

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos and/or comment, feedback fuels my muse :D
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr at lightblindingme


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